Dr. Good - A Man Who Knows What He Wants

It’s like something else has taken over me, some force I can’t quite understand, roaring at me to be with her before the world ends. It’s primal and deafening, a song between my ears that tells me if I don’t claim this woman now, I might never get another chance.

It makes no sense, but it comes from a primal place where it doesn’t have to make sense.

It comes from the pulsating need all men must feel when they lay eyes on their true mate, on the woman they’re going to spend the rest of their lives with.

I stop outside her bedroom door, pressing my ear against it as my engorged helm presses against the inside of my pants. I listen through the oak door to try and find the sound of her breathing, even as I know this is wrong, even if I know I shouldn’t be invading her privacy like this.

I try to think of her stalker, Derrick, and how I’m doing something similar to what he did.

But I can’t accept that logic.

Because he was wrong when he said they were going to spend the rest of their lives together.

I’m certain this woman is mine, and mine alone.

I’m more right about this than I’ve ever been about anything.

“Oh,” she whimpers.

I stifle a growl and press my ear closer to the door.

“Oh, fuck…”

Jesus Christ, this woman has got to be kidding me.

This is her first night here and she’s already rubbing her horny little pussy for me, already comfortable enough on my silk sheets to ply sweet pleasure from her fertile young slit?

I let out a growl by mistake, the carnal ferocity writhing through me becoming too much to handle, becoming deafening as I stand here hungry to go inside.

“Hello?” she calls.

Fuck.

“It’s me,” I say, trying to keep my voice as casual as possible. “Can I come in?”

I shouldn’t have said that but it’s out there now and there’s no way I can magically snatch it back.

What I should have said is I’m a sleepwalker and I came here by mistake, or I get lost in my own apartment or anything to stop me from opening the door and striding in there.

I know the second I smell the pussy-tinged air, the second I see the lust in her eyes, I won’t be able to stop.

“Sure,” she calls. “Just give me a sec…”

I push the door to find her wriggling under the covers, presumably pulling her pants up after she got carried away and rubbed herself so hard they started to come down. I groan and bite down to stop myself from roaring at her, from telling her to keep her hands where the fuck they are.

“Is there something you needed?” she murmurs, looking up at me from her place beneath the covers.

She sits up, causing the sheet to fall down around her hips.

She’s changed into a tank top and…

Oh, fuck.

She’s not wearing a bra. The cut is low and I can see gorgeous thick veins moving across her curvaceous breasts, with her juicy pert nipples poking through the fabric, as though she’s silently begging for me to free them and start sucking on them right now.

My cock hurts, it’s so damn hard.

“There’s something I need,” I growl, even if I know it’s a mistake.

I walk over to the edge of the bed and stare down at her.

“Yes?” she whimpers.

I glare hard, my gaze burning into her, causing a flush to spread across her cheeks and down her neck, over her breasts, coloring every part of her.

This is it, my final chance to stop, to remember I’m supposed to be a professional.

But then she bites her lip, just for a second, and I can’t.

“Keep going,” I snarl.

“What?” Her eyes widen. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do, Macie. Keep. Fucking. Going.”

She tilts her head, still trying to pretend she’s got no idea what I’m hinting at, but we both know she’s lying. “Honestly. I don’t understand…”

I lean down and stare directly into her eyes, and then I slowly move my hand over to the covers.

I peel them back, waiting for her to say no, waiting for her to tell me to stop, but she stares at me as though she’s in a dream, as though she can’t believe this is happening.

She looks so innocent and vulnerable and ready to do whatever the fuck I tell her to do.

“If you don’t understand,” I snarl, “then why is that sweet pussy so wet?”

She gasps as I slide my hand up her thigh, clamping it down on the heat of her pussy.

I was right.

She’s soaked through the fabric of her PJ bottoms, my fingers deliciously wet, the air tangy with the scent of her needy hole.

She bites her lip as I start to rub her, her eyelids fluttering.

“You were close, weren’t you, you horny fucking thing?”